MISSING
by EpitomeOfCool
Summary: Max hasn't been home in almost 6 years, having been away at Oxford, wanting to forget about her deceased father. But now, having been offered a position at the research facility, Itex, Max must face her past, including her childhood friend Fang.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride.**

"I'm gonna mess up."

"No, you're not."

"But how do you know?"

A chuckle. "Because I know everything, remember?"

The sixteen-year-old boy grinned at the girl's expression, and bumped his shoulder against hers. She rolled her eyes. "How could I forget?" she asked. "Fang Grey knows _everything_."

The boy just continued to grin, slung his arm around her shoulders, and cast his gaze over the street. Sporadic reams of school children passed by, some sporting lunchboxes, and others bearing iPods and phones. A lollipop lady was not far in front, manning the busy road that separated the primary and the high school.

"What if I forget my words?" she asked. He looked down at her, saw the worry congealing in her brown eyes. They past under a cluster of trees, and its shadows caressed the side of her face. "What if," she began, "they hate my speech?"

"They won't, Max."

They past from under the trees, walking out into the morning sun. It was intense, unrestrained by a single fleeting cloud, and prophesised another hot summer day.

"Fang, what if-"

She was looking up at him now, appearing small pressed against his broad shoulder. Her eyes caught a patch of light, and they reflected a deep, chocolate brown. He loved her eyes; was going to tell her how pretty they looked when he saw the uncertainty in them.

"What if they boo me off the stage?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Then you should probably get off."

Max glared, but not for long. A smile fought its way onto her lips.

He leaned in close, and an errant lock of dark hair slipped into his vision. "You'll do fine," he said. "It's just a speech for English class, and it's not like you don't speak in front of the students on a regular basis. You're Head Girl, Max, you're always speaking to us in assembly."

She sighed. "I know. It's just genetic engineering's a controversial topic."

"But you love a challenge."

"That, I do," she agreed, smiling. "But I just want everyone to see how beneficial it could be. We're talking about the _eradication of starvation_, and the _extension of human lives_." She was grinning, and her voice was getting higher and quicker. "Dad's even going to take me to his lab tomorrow and show me around." She was beginning to move her hands around in excitement. "He's going to show me their latest version of the GM crop. I mean, come on, how brilliant is that? It's not even on the market yet, and I'll be one of the select few to actually _see it_."

His arm loosened around her shoulders, and she pulled away entirely, her hands moving up and down frantically as she began to regurgitate the primary points of her speech. He smiled as he saw her familiar spark ignite into life, and the despondency he'd been greeted with at her front door, fizzle out. He then laughed when one of her hands smacked into his arm. He often joked she'd take off when she flapped her arms around like that.

"So I was thinking," he began, pausing briefly as a rowdy group of kids passed by, "we should hit the ice cream parlour after school."

He spoke the words casually, perhaps a little slower and with a little more care than usual, which forced her to scrutinise him carefully. His dark eyes flitted to hers. But then passed over her head.

He stopped walking, and began to frown as he squinted at something in the distance. Max looked, too, but stuggled to see anything at all. The sun cut mostly into her vision, and it took her a full minute to clearly identify anything. Even then all she could see was a lollipop lady, a couple of parents with their young kids, and that group of kids they'd just past.

She turned back round, saw his eyes still fixed intently above her, and noted the tenseness in his shoulders, the tightness of his jaw. It was as if a dark shadow had passed over his face; bleaching it of any colour: he looked ghostly white.

He jumped when she laid a light hand on his shoulder.

"You ok?" she asked.

He nodded, but the tensness and the rigidity were still there. She frowned as he grabbed her arm and steered her forward. His grip was tight, and it hurt. She jerked back her arm. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing. I just want to get to school," he mumbled.

She narrowed her eyes, but he refused to look at her, which annoyed her to no end. She hated lies; hated that it was _him_, her best friend, with whom they told each other _everything_, was the one telling them. "What did you see?" she asked

"Nothing."

"But you looked kinda freaked-"

"_It was nothing."_ He turned on her, his lips halfway to a snarl. She pulled back in surprise.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to snap." He sighed, and forced a smile. "Just saw some dog chasing a cat, that was all."

She nodded, deciding to remain mute, because of course she didn't believe him. He'd looked frightened, and even now his dark eyes, which almost always confessed any feelings he tried to withhold from her, swirled with worry.

They walked in silence, past the park, and it was if an itchy blanket had surrounded him. It was awkward, almost unbearable, and she just wanted it gone.

He still looked jittery, too. Casting his gaze back every now and then, almost furtively, as if he believed he could do so without her noticing. But she always saw everything he did.

Some said he was hard to read; his dry humour often misunderstood, and his smiles and lack of communication an indication of him being antisocial. But this was untrue. He was witty and could con a laugh from her any day. And he smiled. Oh, he smiled; all the time around her, and they were the best smiles she'd ever seen. She'd told him that once, not intentionally; it had just slipped out, and his smile had just grown, and a strange feeling had settled in her stomach.

She didn't have that feeling now. It was just worry curling inside, spurring bouts of doubt.

"You mentioned going for ice-cream?" she suddenly asked, wanting to pull him back to their previous easy flowing conversation.

He didn't answer. Didn't show any sign of having heard her.

"Fang?" she asked, and nudged his shoulder.

He looked at her. "Yeah?" He forced a smile. "What did you say?"

"Just wondered whether you still wanted to go for ice-cream after school?" she mumbled.

He seemed hesitant now. But then nodded. "Yeah." He smiled, and the tenseness seemed to somewhat dissipate from his face. His colour was beginning to return.'I want to spend as much time with you as I can until you desert me for the whole summer."

"Oh, _come on_," she moaned. "You've spent the last how many summers now with me?"

He shrugged. "Twelve?"

"So since we were five, right?" She grinned. "I think that three weeks apart won't do us any harm, do you?"

Another shrug. Even though he pretended to be overly distraught about her upcoming absence, he wasn't so sure about how much an exaggeration that was. They'd met at age of four on their first day at school, having been paired as desk partners, and had found that they just…_clicked_. Since then they'd barely spent more than a week apart.

"Has your dad told you where you'll be going yet?" Fang asked.

She shook her head. "Nope. He just says it's a surprise."

He looked at her closely. "You're excited, aren't you?" he asked. Her head was down, her long blond hair acting as a curtain, shielding the smile he just knew had begun to form.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "He's never taken me anywhere before. Not really. So it should be…nice."

Fang felt angry. Her dad never paid much attention to his only daughter, choosing instead to allow his work as a scientist to consume his life. And what with having lost her mother while still a baby, Max had never had the luxury of a caring parent. She'd had Anne, her nanny, with whom Max had loved and viewed as a mum. But even she'd left last year. Anne was thirty and derived from America, and had frantically come off the phone one day, crying about a family emergency, and how she had to leave and didn't know when she'd be back. Except a letter of resignation and a brief note expressing how she wished Max the best for the future, there had been no other word from her.

"He's been spending a lot of time with me recently," Max said. "I mean, he's been coming back home earlier from the lab. We've even had dinner together for the last five nights in a row." She looked at Fang, wide-eyed. "Most weeks I've only ever glimpse him in passing, so to have him at home, for a couple of hours, and having the opportuniuty to talk to him..."

Fang rolled his eyes. He knew this sudden interest in his daughter wouldn't last. It couldn't, right? Ever since he'd known Max, her father had never given the impression of caring a damn. He was rarely home before the early hours of the morning, and even then he'd rarely indulge his daughter with communication. Maybe he was feeling guilty because of Anne's absence? Did her father even know about him, and that Max often ate at his house? It had been that way on and off throughout their whole lives, but more so since Anne had left. And anyway, his mum just loved Max. And his dad. And his eight-year-old sister, Angela, whom they all lovingly called Angel because of her slight, gentle features; blonde hair and blue eyes. Max had always been more a part of their lives than she'd ever been of her dad's.

Max was scrutinising Fang carefully. He was frowning, and his lips were fixed in a firm line. It wasn't the look of worry and fear he'd exhibited before; he was annoyed, perhaps a little angry, and she knew it was directed at her talk of her dad. He hated her father. Saw him as a waste of space. Maybe he was right. But he was the only family she had.

"Look," she began, "I know you don't like my dad-"

"Really?"

She scowled. He didn't need to be sarcastic.

"Sorry." He sighed. "I just don't think he'd ever win Best Day of the Year Award, that's all."

"And don't you think I, of all people, would know that?"

He nodded.

"But he's still my dad, Fang. And he's really trying right now. He's been asking me how school's been going, and you should have seen how proud he looked when he realised how well I've been doing in school."

Fang smiled. It looked almost mocking, and perhaps it was, but it wasn't directed at Max. It was aimed at her dad. Max was the brightest in the school; apparently the best they'd ever had, according to their Headmaster. And if her dad had only just begun taking note of that, it just reiterated his points on how crap a dad he'd been. She would surely achieve all A*s for her GCSE's, and would no doubt be attending one of the country's best Universities in two years' time.

"He's been telling me a lot about what they do at the lab," she continued. "Y'know, about his work and everything, and it sounds really interesting. They're the leading genetics lab in the country, and some of the experiments they're conducting…it's just _amazing_."

She'd begun to move her hands about again. He laughed.

She turned to him then, with her eyes bright, and her hair framing her face in such a pretty way he wanted to take a picture of her right then and there. But he wouldn't…_couldn't_. Just like he couldn't tell her that she was the most wonderful person he'd ever met, or that she looked too damn cute standing there, getting all excited over science stuff that went completely over his head.

"I think that may be what I want to go into when I leave school," she admitted, cocking her head to the side, as if she were asking his permission.

He simply nodded, not surprised by the admission. She'd always taken a real interest in it; he just hoped her enthusiasm wasn't only fuelled by her father's obvious passion for the field. For some reason she'd always retained the hope of one day pleasing him; perhaps of earning his acknowledgement and praise. But she owed him nothing. It was _he_ who owed her everything; who owed her a lot more than he'd ever given. He just wished Max would realise that.

Fang also hoped Max's bright future had a place for him in it, too; he didn't want to be left behind, in the dark, and forgotten. But he felt that Max needed him in her life just as badly as he needed her. Their bonds of friendship were not as thin and tenuous as a paper chain; they were as strong as metal, and would surely withstand the pulls of reality that often had childhood friendships fall apart. Fang's goals after school did not soar as high as a prestigious university. His strengths did not lay in equations and calculations, as Max's did. He thrived on creativity instead, and had decided long ago that he wanted to be a writer.

"Are you sure you're ok?" she asked. She was squinting up at him, the sun once again cutting into her vision.

"Yes."

"Really?"

"_Yes."_

Her eyes still asked the question, and she still didn't look relieved.

"I'm here if you need me," she said.

He nodded, swallowing thickly. Because even though he wished to divulge everything to her, he just couldn't. He'd sound paranoid, and what proof did he have to say that his suspicions were correct? So he'd keep quiet, and just wait for something further to happen.

Hopefully though, nothing would.


End file.
